


Lessons for a Master

by FaeriArchive (FaeriMagic)



Series: Calculator Chronicles [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, POV Third Person, Violins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-11
Updated: 2011-01-11
Packaged: 2020-06-27 08:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19787110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeriMagic/pseuds/FaeriArchive
Summary: Find this work on:✿DeviantArt✿Don't steal. I have proof if ya do. :DAnyways, enjoy!2019 edit: i was cleaning out my calculator and it turns out there was a draft of this in there. don't mind me i'm just gonna... *pops this work into the series*





	Lessons for a Master

**Author's Note:**

> Find this work on:  
> ✿ [DeviantArt](http://fav.me/d36yxqv) ✿
> 
> * * *
> 
> Don't steal. I have proof if ya do. :D
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!
> 
> 2019 edit: i was cleaning out my calculator and it turns out there was a draft of this in there. don't mind me i'm just gonna... *pops this work into the series*

There was a knock on the door.  
"Go away, I dun want no stinking hair curlers, or whatever you're sellin'." grunted a voice.  
"We're not salespeople." replied a timid voice.   
"Then what are ya?"  
"Students."  
The aged man sighed. God, did he hate that rule. 'Don't turn away one who is willing to learn.'  
Retired teacher. Hah!  
God, did he hate it.   
He opened the door and saw a crowd of students.   
"Why're there so many of you?"  
"Please, sir. The music audition is coming soon and--"  
"Yea, yea, whatever, come inside." Music audition, music exam, music test, whatever. He was sick of music. More than half of his life was dedicated to those stupid notes. Until his best violin broke. Nothing sounded the same after that.   
His violin was his soul. Without it, he was an empty shell.   
He looked at the group again. Man, did he wish it was a salesperson.   
His tiny living room was soon crowded.   
"Right. Let me hear you play from this violin." He brought out an old, unattractive instrument that showed clear signs of mistreatment.   
"Why does that look so crappy?" said a rude boy.  
"It was my first violin, smart aleck." he corrected. It was a lie, of course. It was a crappy violin. He saw no use in it except to discourage the students and provide him with some alone time.   
The students looked in awe as they stared at the supposed instrument that changed the Master's life.   
One by one, they began to play the violin. One by one, they stopped in frustration.  
Even with all the rosin and tuning the violin attained, the sound was screechy, unclear, and unpleasing.   
The Master was pleased. These bratty rats would leave soon enough.   
At last, there was one person left. The rest had stormed out in a rage, leaving a pleasant atmosphere for the Master to enjoy, but a nervous one for the remaining student.  
She looked less educated than the others, but she took the violin and breathed in deeply.   
And she began to play.   
The sound was welcoming.   
It was soft, and yet, strong.   
Of course, it was nothing compared to Stradivariuses, the legendary violins, but the violin soon lost its stubborn temperament and sang quite beautifully.  
The master realized he had tears in his eyes.   
The other students attempted to play complicated pieces by Mozart and Bach and the like.   
This girl played a common song, a soft song. A happy song.   
It was the song he heard as he married his wife.   
  
His wife was a strong lass; wild, and yet kind. They had spent many happy years together.  
Until it happened.   
They were at a wedding on a boat.  
It was windy.   
In an attempt to lighten the mood, he played the violin.   
Dancing begun, his wife dancing the merriest.  
Strong wind suddenly swerved the boat.  
His wife fell overboard.  
She drowned.  
Shattered by her death, he threw his violin onto the deck and the instrument split neatly in two.  
  
The girl stopped playing.  
"Sir, is there something wrong?" she asked with concern.  
"No, everything is fine." he said quietly.  
"Shall I continue?" she said hesitatingly.   
"No. That's enough, thank you." he said.  
She looked dejected, but bowed and turned to leave.   
"Wait.."   
She paused, and turned around.  
"Come here."  
She came.  
"You played very well on the violin, when the others couldn't. Why is that?"  
Surprised by the sudden compliment, she stuttered.   
"W-well, all of the violins I've played on have been like that."  
"All of them?"  
"One." she admitted.  
The Master noticed her holding a shabby violin case behind her.  
"May I see it?" he asked. She obliged.   
He began playing on it and immediately saw that it was a poor instrument.  
"Let me hear you play." he said, handing the instrument back.  
The girl was confused, but she did as she was told.  
The result was a pleasant melody.   
"I don't mean to be rude," he said. "But I must inform you that your violin is of a very poor quality."  
The girl blushed and nodded.  
"However." he added. "You played quite wonderfully. Quite professionally. Even I would find it hard to play on such an instrument. How is it that you are able to do such a task?"  
The girl thought about this question.   
"Well, sir, I always thought that a musician makes his instrument; not the instrument, the musician." The girl realized that what she said was unclear. "I mean," she amended. "When a musician plays a masterpiece, we consider it amazing. But wouldn't it be more amazing if he played music of the same quality, but from a cheap instrument?"  
The Master stared at her, and suddenly remembered a memory he thought he'd forgotten.  
  
"You're horrible." a girl said. He took the violin from his chin.  
"Why do you say that?"  
"You will never be as good as me." she said. He began to bristle.  
"Oh, really?"  
"Of course. Your violin is of a poor make, you have no teacher, and no way of learning. How can you possibly be better than me, one who has all the resources?"  
"It's possible!" he yelled. He pointed his bow at her. "And I'll be better than you! Just wait and see!"  
Several years later, he won one of the most competitive competitions of that era.   
"I won." he smiled smugly to his rival.  
"Yes, congratulations." she smiled. "You played really well."  
He stared at her.   
"What?" she said, slightly unnerved.   
"I thought you would respond differently. Something like 'Those judges were idiots to not recognize my talent.' or 'I can't believe people liked the racket you made.'."  
She blinked. "What do you mean? I always knew you would surpass me."  
"Huh? Then what was that you said to me when we first met?"  
She stared at him in confusion before remembering the event.   
"Oh. That." she blushed. "Well...I...I thought you had the potential, but not enough drive. I thought that if I motivated you enough, you would keep trying to find ways to overcome your circumstances. And you did."  
He suddenly had a paradigm shift.   
For years, he had thought of her as a snotty little rich girl. In reality, she was kind enough to care about him, a country bumpkin.   
He was ashamed with himself.  
"Can you forgive me for thinking so wrongly of you?"  
She smiled. "As long as you continue to play music, what is there for me to forgive?"  
He looked at her and closed his eyes.   
Taking the violin in hand, he began to play.  
  
"Sir, that was a lovely piece." said a voice.  
The Master's eyes opened themselves.   
"Forgive me, I was reminiscing." He sat down on a chair. After a minute, he reached a decision. "Why do you play the violin?"  
"Why? Because...I like it."  
"Then why have you come to me?"  
"I would like to become better."  
"And why is that?"  
The girl didn't respond.  
"You don't have to be the best to like the violin." The Master continued. "There are other, easier jobs out there. Why do you want to be a musician?"  
The girl gripped the bow tightly.   
"That's what he said." she whispered.  
"He?" the Master lifted his eyebrows as if he was surprised.   
"He said that because I was poor, I wasn't able to be better than him." She lifted her head. "I to prove him wrong! I want him to acknowledge me as a worthy person, equal to him! That is why I wish to be better!"  
The Master smiled.  
"Very well. I shall teach you. Soon, you will learn."  
She blinked. "Learn?" The Master...he was going to teach her?  
"Lesson number one. Music is not to be used for revenge. You shall learn in time what to use your music for." The Master shuffled into another room and came back. "This is my second best violin. I would give you my best, but it is no longer usable."  
"S-sir!" the girl gasped. The Master give her his violin? Impossible!  
"Take it." he said gently. "I want you to have it."  
"Thank you." she said softly, as if a loud word might crack the beautiful violin.  
"I will see you tomorrow for your lesson?"  
"O-of course." she said.  
"Good. Now go home and eat your dinner."  
"Yes, sir." she picked up her violins. At the door, she paused and turned around. "And sir?" Tears were forming at the corners of her eyes. "Thank you."   
  
Later that night, two beautiful melodies were heard in the village.   
One, the girl's, invited her promising future.  
The other, the Master's, was on the crappy violin. He was rediscovering his past.


End file.
